


Cuisine et Amour

by louhz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Derek, Baker Derek Hale, First Meetings, Fluff, France (Country), M/M, Meet-Cute, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Polish Stilinskis, derek owns a bakery in france, derek speaks french, poland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louhz/pseuds/louhz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles needs to get away from everything and ends up in France where he meets a very cute baker named Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuisine et Amour

Stiles needed to get away. He needed to feel. He needed to eat good food and see amazing monuments. Some things you just couldn’t do in Beacon Hills. He needed to spend some time to himself, with only him and his thoughts. So, he did what he did best. Prepare.

He planned a 2 month trip to first, France and then Poland. He wanted to go to France for the food, the culture, the art, everything. And he decided to spend 2 weeks in Poland, to reconnect with his culture, his roots. He hadn’t seen his grandparents in more than 3 years and thought it was a good time.

He had just finished his first year of college, and he was ready to discover everything that was missing from his life.

He booked a flight to France and Poland, packed his bags and brought a few books on French and some Polish literature. He reassured his dad more than a million times that he was going to be just fine, that he only needed some time. He gave everyone a hug and maybe gave more than one to Scott and cried some tears and was on his way to the airport.

When he got registered, he took a seat, waiting for his flight to be ready. He sat down next to a little girl who only spoke French and kept wanting to play cards with him. He accepted after understanding her intentions and they played for the whole wait.

They announced on the speaker that they could get on board, Stiles waved goodbye at the little girl, Léa, then stepped foot on the plane. His heart was beating fast, and he was tired.

*

Stiles woke up when there was only an hour left to the flight, the flight attendants began to pass around breakfast, which made Stiles’ eyes roll.

When he landed to France, Stiles was both excited and extremely nervous. He searched for his luggage and went on his way to find a taxi.

He arrived at his hotel, which was luxurious, thanks to Stiles’ economies, and an old French woman was there waiting for him and greeting him. “Ah, bonjour, Monsieur Stiles!” She said, in her old voice. She was still well dressed for her age, Stiles thought. She was thin with shoulder long gray hair, she was wearing a black dress with small heels. She looked quite French, comparing to Stiles.

He was wearing sweatpants that had survived an 8 hour flight and a black long sleeve shirt. _He_ looked quite American.

His hotel was between a renowned French bakery, according to multiple sites and small bookshop. But right now, Stiles did not feel like going reading or stuffing his face in one hundred dollars cupcakes. He felt like sleeping and calling his dad and friends to assure them that he’s okay.

He managed to sleep after an hour of talking on the phone and woke up to his alarm. He decided to go on a walk and visit the Eiffel Tower, because, well, it’s the Eiffel Tower. He bought a few souvenirs and a French flag and then decided head back to his hotel to look for some good restaurants to eat to.

He stopped at the bakery beside the hotel, Pâtisserie Hale, and thought why not. He entered, and the smell immediately made him fall in love with the place. It smelled like vanilla, sugar and raspberry. Everything perfect. The bakery was clean, the employees were all dressed in white and there were a few people at the tables, eating.

He went at the counter, nervous his French was not at a good enough level, but brushed the thought off, because he studied French for 5 years. He was going to be alright.

Except he wasn’t. The most handsome man he had ever seen was behind the counter. He could read “Derek” on his uniform, and he had the most gorgeous eyes. He had brown hair, he was muscly and he had a beard. He looked like a Greek god.

The man, Derek, coughed and looked at Stiles who was apparently staring. “Je peux vous aider?” He said. Even his voice was beautiful, Stiles thought. “Heu, oui…” Stiles replied, in his best French accent.

“J’aimerais…” He waited, looked at the menu besides him. “J’aimerais un café et un gâteau à la framboise, s’il-vous-plaît. ” He said, not sure if he just made a fool out of himself in front of the hottest man in France.

The man smiled, which only made Stiles blush. “Is that an American accent I hear?” He said in a perfect accent. Was he American? Could he get hotter? What the hell, Stiles thought. The man shuffled through papers as he looked at Stiles.

“Yes!” Stiles said, amazed to have found someone who could speak English as well as him. “I’m from California, actually. Are you American, too?” Say yes, say yes.

“Yeah, I am!” Derek said with a perfect smile. He handed out his hand to Stiles and looked at him, still smiling. Stiles took it and didn’t want to let go. I mean he’s only here for 3 weeks, he can have a crush on some baker. “My name’s Derek. Derek Hale. I actually own this bakery, you want something? It’ll be on the house. It’s not every day you meet an American here.”

“Really? I read that you guys were famous in France. And wow, you look pretty young to have such a good business going.” Did he just flirt? Was he not supposed to say that? “Hum, but, I can’t accept the free…something. I’ll feel bad afterwards.”

Derek nodded okay and took Stiles’ order. “Thank you, and I’m 24” He winked. Oh my god, did he just wink? “But tourists don’t really come in this part of the city, it’s more the locals.” Stiles’ face become so red he could’ve blended in with the red velvet cupcakes on display.

He sat down at a free table and got his computer out. He transferred some pictures from his phone to his Facebook, and saw that Lydia was online. What time was it there? He sent her some pictures and began speaking in paragraphs about how Derek was cute.

*

It had been a week since Stiles was in France, and he loved it. He loved waking up to a beautiful view, he loved the language and he loved the food. Especially the one made by the bakery just beside his hotel.

Stiles had been going there every morning, always ordering something different. He loved how fresh the mornings felt there. And he loved seeing Derek. He loved hearing him speak French.

Every time he entered the shop, Derek would be there, behind the counter, waving and smiling at him. Stiles couldn’t help but smile too when he saw him.

Today, he was sitting at the counter, facing Derek and a menu. “Hey, Stiles,” Stiles lifted up his head. “Did you go to Montmartre?”

Stiles frowned. “No, should I?” He said, as he watched Derek’s mouth form a ‘o’.

“Yes, of course! I’m sure you’ll love it. You totally have to go to Place du Tertre. It’s where the artists are!” Derek said, his eyes suddenly filling with excitement. “You know what, we should go together.”

Stiles looked at him, blinking. “Really?” He wasn’t sure if Derek was kidding. “You want to go with me?”

Derek’s eyes sparkled. “Oui, of course, Stiles!” Stiles’ mouth curved into a smile, hearing Derek’s French slipping out. “It’s a date.”

Stiles laughed. “When should we go, then?”

“What about Saturday morning, yes?”

“Sure, I’ll wait for you here Saturday” Stiles responded, eager for the date.

*

Saturday, Stiles was in his hotel room, getting dressed. It took him about an hour, but he finally put a navy blue sweater and black pants. He placed his hair in a not so messy way, and he was done. He looked at his phone. 7:45 am.

As Stiles got out of his hotel entrance, he saw Derek waving at him and, wow, Stiles thought, he looks amazing. Derek was wearing a gray sweatshirt under a black leather jacket with black pants. Seeing him out of his uniform was a blessing.

Derek looked at Stiles up and down and smiled. “You look good.” Stiles moved his hand towards Derek, saying he does too. “Shall we go then?”

“We shall.” They walked together for a while, until they saw a taxi and thought it was best to take it. It was quiet for a while until Stiles decided to say something. “So, why open a business in France when you could’ve done it America?”

Derek hesitated on his answer. “I’m not sure,” He looked at Stiles. “I guess I wanted to get away for some time from America, and I love baking, so I thought, why not open a bakery in a country that’s famous for cooking?” Stiles smiled. He thought Derek was brave.

“And you? I know you came to France for the same reason as me, but won’t you feel sad, going back to America?” Derek asked, curious about the answer. He looked at Stiles with so much intensity, Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a French thing or a Derek thing.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. My family and friends are there, and I never get sad around them.” Stiles chuckled. Derek looked out the window, suddenly morose.

“I think that’s why I stayed. I don’t have anyone waiting for me there.” He said, smiling sadly.

Stiles looked at him with pitying eyes. How could someone like Derek be so sad? “Well,” Stiles, clapped his hand on Derek’s knee, trying to defuse the situation. “You have me waiting there, now.”

Derek laughed and looked down at Stiles’ hand who went away quickly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

*

They walked in Place du Tertre, admiring the painters’ works. Tourists were sitting on chairs, having their portraits painted and drawn by the French artists. Couples were holding hands and kissing on benches. Families were speaking in different languages, and talking quietly to their children.

Stiles suddenly felt a hand squeezing his arm. It was Derek. “Stiles, come get your portrait drawn!” Derek looked so dreamy. He was waiting, a hand on Stiles, for his answer.

“Alright, sure,” Stiles said, smiling at the artist telling him to come closer. Stiles sat on one of the chairs, while Derek translated for the artist. “Alright, but you have to do it too, Derek.” Stiles smiled, cheeky. Derek agreed and asked the man if he could be next.

The artist agreed, and Derek sat next to him, looking at the progression of the drawing. “How does it look?” Stiles asked. It had been at least 20 minutes, he thought.

“Beautiful.” Derek said, smiling at Stiles, whose cheeks blushed.

As the artist told the Derek he was done and that he could go place himself on the chair, Stiles got up and went to see the drawing. It really was beautiful. It looked exactly like Stiles. He thanked the artist and gave him 25 euros and sat where Derek was, looking at him.

He watched as the pencil did curves, and lines, getting every of Derek’s traits right. Stiles was in awe at the work. “Derek, I can’t wait for you to see that, it looks just like you. It’s gorgeous.”

Stiles could’ve sworn he had seen Derek’s face blush a little.

*

Derek got off the chair, thanked the artist, took his drawing, and they were on their way.  “Where’re we going?” Stiles said, radiant.

“You hungry?” Derek asked.

“I’m always hungry.” Stiles replied. Derek leaded him to a little restaurant on a hidden cobbled street.

They entered and they were immediately harassed by the employees, speaking in French to Derek and referring him as ‘Monsieur Derek’. Stiles looked at Derek, who was taking pictures with them, grinning. As he was done, they took a table in a corner.

“Hum” Derek laughed. “I’m sorry, I really thought they wouldn’t recognize me.” He really did look sorry.

“It’s okay, really. That was amazing!” Stiles smiled.

They ordered something French that Stiles couldn’t pronounce without Derek laughing at him. They ate, asking each other questions during the pauses. Stiles couldn’t believe there was only 5 days left to his trip. Should he tell Derek?

Yeah, he should, he thought. “Hey, hum,” Why was he so nervous? “You know, I only have 5 days left and after I’m going to Poland.”

Derek looked grave. “Really?” What did I do? Stiles thought. He looked so sad. Stiles couldn’t even look at him in the eyes.

“Hum, yeah. “ He had only met Derek, and yet he was feeling as though he had known him for months. Leaving him shouldn’t feel so bad. Yet it did. “I’ll be visiting my grand-parents there. I, hum, haven’t seen them for 3 years.” He should be happy, he thought, he was going to see his family.

Derek felt as though he should be content for Stiles, about him visiting his family, but he wasn’t. His mind was beginning to go to a place he didn’t like. Stiles had been entering his bakery now for almost 2 months and each time it made Derek the happiest man ever. Stiles visiting him brought a happiness to him that he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe he was over-analyzing things, Derek thought, he was only a tourist and Derek had no right to make him feel bad about leaving.

*

Stiles was packing in his room, listening a French talk-show as a background noise. The streets were buzzing in silence, and sometimes he could hear young groups of people laughing as they were walking down the street. It was almost 3 in the morning and Stiles had a flight to catch for Poland. He was going to see his babcia and his dziadek and he’d be visiting Krakow, his favorite city in Poland.

As he was zipping up his luggage, Stiles heard a knock on his hotel room. He opened the door and found Derek, in his white uniform, looking as though he had ran up the stairs to get here. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Stiles asked, smiling sadly, knowing he was going to have to leave him.

“Hey,” Derek stared, out of breath, “I asked the lady where your room was, don’t think I’m a stalker. Anyways, I wanted to ask you where you lived in California. I thought maybe I could send you some letters.” And by letters, he meant he really wanted to keep in touch with Stiles. His heart was racing, waiting for an answer to come out of Stiles.

The man looked at him, in surprise. “Yeah! Sure!” He did not expect this. This was definitely something worth a phone call to Lydia, Stiles thought. He wrote his information of a piece of paper, including his phone number, kind of hoping very hard that Derek would text him. He gave it to Derek, who placed it inside of his uniform’s pocket.

“I’ll…We’ll speak?” Derek asked.

Stiles smiled at him. “Of course we will.”

*

Stiles’ trip to Poland had been amazing. He visited so many monuments and museums, he was kind of sad having to go back to small Beacon Hills, California. Also, he’s pretty sure he gained 15 pounds on both his trips. His grandmother had fed him so much pastries and traditional Polish dishes that he never ate at restaurants.

His favorite thing about being away to another country was the languages. Unlike many people, Stiles liked not speaking English on his trips. He loved the way Polish rolled on his tongue and how the words came out naturally. He loved hearing his grandmother call him sweet names in his native language, just like he loved hearing Derek speak perfect French at his employees and at the locals.

Derek did call and he did text. And Stiles is pretty sure that’s how he got through the long wait at the airport. Sometimes Stiles would post silly videos of him on his Snapchat, or sometimes he’d take a picture of a building in Poland and Derek would answer by sending him a picture of the streets of Paris. It made Stiles miss him even more.

As he was on his plane, going back to his home, he opened his laptop and typed a message to his Dad about how he was okay and how he’s on his way to Beacon Hills.

Suddenly, he received a Skype invitation from Derek. Stiles’ heart began to beat a little faster. He accepted it and saw Derek, who was apparently on his bed, wearing a navy blue t-shirt. His hair was a little messy and he looked gorgeous, Stiles thought.

“Hey, you. I’m on the plane right now.” Stiles grinned. He had to speak quietly, as most of the passengers were asleep. Some lights on the plane had been closed for it to be somewhat dark. “What’s up with you? You look like you just woke up.”

Derek laughed. “I did, actually!” Sometimes, Stiles could hear a slight French accent and he thought it was the cutest thing ever. “I wanted to tell you that yesterday night, I got a call from a friend, who’s a chef in America, and he asked me to come to his restaurant for the opening.”

Stiles jumped from his seat. Derek, in America? At the same time as him?

“Oh, my god! That’s awesome! I mean, what did you say?” Derek chuckled at his reaction.  

“Of course, I said yes. I thought maybe I could extend my trip and come see you?” He asked nervously. He knew Stiles would want to see him, but maybe it was too soon.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stiles cried out of excitement. He had been speaking about Derek to Lydia for months now and he knew she’d be thrilled to meet The Derek. Also, he’d get to spend time with Derek, show him where he lived.

“Oui?” Derek asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oui.”

And at that moment, Stiles was so thankful that when he most needed to get away from everyone, he actually got closer to someone.  And that this someone was Derek Hale.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so very much for taking your time to read this!!! please leave kudos and comments:D


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